


The Iron Hides Silk

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Begging, Bondage, Civil War Fix-It, Civil War Team Iron Man, Collars, Comic Book Science, Communication, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Dark Tony Stark, Dirty Talk, Dom Tony Stark, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kink Negotiation, Light Masochism, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Public Sex, Punishment, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sorry Not Sorry, Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, Sub Natasha Romanov, Sub Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Top Tony Stark, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a year of living among Wakandans, courtesy to King T'Challa, the Rogue Avengers find out their pardons were finally granted. The price, however, is everything but cheap.As they are soon to find out , Natasha, Steve, and Bucky are to be kept under Tony Stark's surveillance and service him until he deems them trustworthy to be heroes again.OrRoss wants to ruin Tony's team. He has other plans.





	1. Don't Put Daggers On A Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my lovelies! Just a quick warning before you start to read this work (I'm so grateful if you will, by the way, lol and reviews are always appreciated!!) I have a bit of a warning/heads up to announce: 
> 
> \--Despite the circumstances, everything in this work is consensual and safe. Tony doesn't touch the three until they explicitly state they are okay with that.
> 
> \-- 'Bogom ' is Russian for 'by God'. I used an online translator for that so don't take my word for it lol.
> 
> \- This isn't a Wanda friendly fic, so I wouldn't recommend it if you like her character in the MCU.
> 
> That is pretty much all! Have a nice read!

 

 

* * *

If Natasha had to pick her least favorite aspect about this whole unfavorable situation, -- and  _Bogom,_ the list was quite long, there was plenty to choose from, -- is that Tony completely ignores their existence.

 

She had enough common sense to not expect a warm hug and open doors once they returned from the (quite unwelcoming, if she was completely honest) cold nest that was the beautiful Wakanda. Tony was merciful, despite appearances. But just because someone decides to forgive, does not mean they also forget. You don't put daggers on a bed and then complain they cut you.

 

 

And yet, the rigid gazes and nonchalant demeanor caught her by surprise nonetheless. She knows it was foolish of her now, to expect him once again to erase their every fault with a sponge as he did in the past. To look the other way at their wrongdoings.

 

In a way, when you're so used to doing things perfectly, you stop trying. That was the mistake that cost her this, she concludes.

 

It is such a shame when you realize you have pushed someone who has treated you warmly once so far, to a point where they don't care anymore, only when you feel every hair on your skin rise in a shiver when their once mellow, fond eyes gaze down at you in an icy indifference. 

 

The Russian winters come to bite at her skin when she sleeps, sometimes. They're unforgiving, ruthless, and cold. Natasha thinks Tony's eyes are colder.

 

_When she first heard about this 'Atoning method', for the first time In many years, the unfamiliar taste of fear spread at the back of her mouth and traveled through her whole body, poisoning her veins and making a home in her belly._

 

_She could see Clint and Steve's petrified figures from the corner of her eye. One looked at her. One looked at Barnes. Who, now that she reviews the events in her mind, looked strangely calm about It all. The frames of his face remained unflinching and unmoving. It felt like looking in a mirror._

 

_She also recalls the slight crack in Steve's voice when he finally decided to talk. The once firm and assertive tone was long gone, replaced by an incredulous but quiet whisper that was almost covered by the wild thumping against her ribcage._

 

_"That...That can't be right. No. I-I-There, uh, there has to be something else, right? Another sentence, another punishment, anything, --" He seemed almost desperate there. They all had. "Anything at all? They can't be...They can't be serious, can't they? Your Majesty, please tell me this is a joke. Please."_

 

_T'Challa's eyes reflected pity, but his word was nothing more than a death sentence to their ears. "I'm afraid there is no farce behind it, Captain. After discussing with the board, and negotiating thoroughly, this was the only deal Mr. Stark could get for you. The pardons came. But with them came conditions and terms that not even we could sweeten. The price was too much for both of us. "_

 

_" What did they want?" Her voice sounded calm then, but inside, she was fighting to prevent it from shaking._

 

_"Wakanda."_

 

_The reply left them in stunned silence. Natasha can't remember if any of them talked after that. The King continued: "Stealing someone's humanity is the lowest crime a man can commit. I have listened to all of your stories about Mr. Stark. I even met him myself. If he's anything like the person you portray in your stories and the one I've met, I can assure you, there is nothing to worry about."_

 

_'That's the problem, ' she thought then, bitterly. 'I don't know if he's going to be the man we know. I don't think I ever did. '_

 

At that moment, she would have given everything for Tony to ignore them. To act like they weren't there. To leave them alone. Natasha even prayed to whatever Gods were above (and for the first time, she actually hoped they existed) for Tony to pretend like they don't exist.

 

She continued to mutter pleads in Russian under her breath even on the ride with the special car Tony sent for them, since, to quote the driver: 'He couldn't be bothered with coming.' Natasha didn't know why she was so scared in the first place. She could protect herself against Tony just fine.

 

The years spent in the Red Room hardened her skin as well as her character until it was impenetrable and she was untouchable, a force a few would want to meddle with. If Tony took away her weapons, she still wouldn't be helpless. Natasha forgot how being helpless felt like a long time ago.

 

You never need weapons when you're a weapon yourself.

 

Perhaps fear stayed because she knew of what Tony was capable of. She has met with a glimpse of his wrath before. She might be a Black Widow, but she knows better than to think she could take on Iron Man on her own.

 

Tony was a futurist. If they'd take one step further in this game, chances are Tony's already at the finish line. It's not only the physical factor but the intellectual one too, which can't even be compared.

 

Tony had them beat before this even started.

 

So, maybe, it was self-preservation and awareness that made her hesitant. Or maybe it was because if it really came down to it… She wouldn't have it in her to hurt Tony anyhow.

 

'Love is poison, ' one of her teachers used to say, in that hollow, empty voice of her that still sings hushed lullabies in Natasha's ear at times, when her past comes back to haunt her in the late hours of the night.

 

Only if she knew how right she was. 'It slows you down when it really matters. Decreases your level of efficiency and clouds your judgment. It makes you  _weak_. Weakness means Death, Natalia. Remember that.'

 

Now, waiting awkwardly in the living room of the Stark Tower, seated next to a pair of equally awkward Bucky and Steve, Natasha now only hopes for her prayers to not be needed.  Bucky's leg bounced rapidly against her own and his eyes scanned the room at least four times. To look for a way out or inspect the new grounds out of curiosity, she didn't know.

 

The tower, design-wise, remained untouched as far as she could tell. The same spacious dark leather couch they used to spend hours upon hours slumped on, wrapped up around one another creating a mess of tangled limbs, watching countless films and TV shows some didn't want or find any interest in but stayed nonetheless.

 

Same old glass coffee table, same impossibly large TV, same view from the kitchen she, Clint, and Thor used to steal all the snacks from. The only difference was, this time, they weren't seen as guests, or friends, or teammates. Natasha worries if they'll even be seen as people instead of Tony's personal--

 

Sickness raises in her throat but she forces herself to relax and swallow it down with a gulp. If Steve and Bucky noticed, they were considerate enough to not make a peep.  

 

One thing Natasha did learn about Steve was that he always played with his fingers when he was nervous, uncomfortable, or stressed. Right now she figures he's all three of those things. She watched how he popped and twisted the digits like there was no tomorrow, distracting herself from the pit of nervousness festering in her belly, too.

 

Natasha didn't know if she started a conversation to put herself at ease, or Steve. "Remember when he sat us down and forced us to watch all Star Wars movies after you told him you never saw one?" She reminded him, lips sketching a half smile on her face.

 

Judging by how the corners of his mouth raised in a crooked grin and tension seemed to leave his shoulders, Steve didn't seem to care which one was it. Natasha would lie if she'd say the sorrowful and look of longing in his eyes didn't pull at her heartstrings.

 

"I was scared he was gonna have a heart attack, " Steve spoke through a small laugh. "I've never seen anyone so offended and deranged at something in my whole life. I couldn't even feel my butt by the time his marathon was over, but...It was nice. Knowing he wanted to share that with us.".

 

"That's our Tony, " she murmured in agreement, staring out the tall glass windows with a fond smile neither men could see, but knew was present. ", doing nice things for everyone. ".

 

'And not getting shit in return' stayed silent on her tongue, and it burned horribly. "He did try to punch you though, but Thor and Bruce held him back. You were lucky. Never mess with Stark and his movies. Chances are you won't get out alive, everyone knows that."

 

Steve merely chuckled. "You have no right to say that to me after you, …".

 

They stay like that for a while, remembering memories of more simple, happier times. Natasha almost feels comfortable. Almost feels like she's home again, waiting for Tony to step out of the elevator after one of his usual lab binges (and get scolded at by Cap for the stains of grease ruining his shirt, which will start another playful banter)  so he could take them out to his favorite restaurant like he used to do every Friday night.

 

Of course, as it does in life, harmony is short-lived.

 

Time seemed to stop when Tony actually appears from the metal doors of the elevator. They all visibly stiffen and the tension from before came back with a vengeance, serving them with the harsh slap of reality. The brunette is holding a suitcase attached to his wrist by a chain. Whatever it's content, it gives Natasha a bad feeling.

 

Almost every step he takes echoes in the silence filled the room. Tony's walk is casual, but firm, his chin is high, and his dark lenses sunglasses sit almost perfectly on his nose, hiding his eyes from the world. He radiates the confidence and power Natasha only saw when he used to walk up into the business meetings he always used to arrive late at but ended up winning anyway.

 

It's the same now. This isn't a get-together. This is a business meeting.

 

" I see that you guys arrived, at once, " Tony's voice is laced with something like boredom and carelessness. It was hard to tell how he really felt when those blasted sunglasses blocked his eyes.

 

It would be so much easier to see the truth behind his eyes than listen to the lies coming from his mouth. "How was the trip? " Something about the passive way he asked that told Natasha he really didn't need or wanted an answer to that question, so instead, she responded with:

 

"I'm surprised reporters and Paparazzi didn't install tents outside already, " she commented, folding her arms across her chest. The woman wanted to hug him, to embrace him after a whole year of being separated, but she doesn't think it would be appreciated now.

 

Natasha didn't want him to see just how affected she was by the ordeal. If Tony wanted to put on the indifference mask, she would take out hers. "thought our return would make more waves."

 

Tony hummed, the tip of his fingers drifting on the tablet he took out briefly. "Give it a few hours. A day tops. I wouldn't worry about them, though. It's not like you'll actually have to deal with them, " leaving the screen for a moment, he took off his glasses and gave her an impassive look that made her pause. "They're down there, and you're up here, after all."

 

Whether he realized the implications that sentence held, especially used in these circumstances. Natasha doubted he didn't.

 

"Where's Sam and the others?" Bucky, who didn't speak until then, finally pipped, refusing to meet Tony's eyes when the man turned to look at him. "It's just… When we arrived, we got separated. They okay?"

 

"Should be, " Tony replied vaguely with a raise of his shoulders. "since Sam's a veteran, they went easier on him. He's on house arrest at his own apartment. So are Lang and Barton. Taking into consideration they have families, I could get them a deal. As for Maximoff...Let's just say she's playing 'Little Birdie In A Cage', like you guys, in a maximum security underground prison. No one gets in, no one gets out. "

 

Trying to ignore the remainder of their incarceration, Steve stepped forward, particularly closer to Bucky as though he wanted to put a wall between him and the man they fought with years ago. His blue eyes were pleading, but Tony's face remained stone.

 

"You can't expect me to believe you'd be okay with something like this happening, Tony, " he spoke softly, trying to step closer to the other man but Tony held his palm up, signaling that it was better to keep a distance. Although saddened, Steve continued. ", I know you're angry, Tony, and upset, but what they're asking you to do is wrong. It's inhuman and cruel, and we have to find something better."

 

"There is nothing more I could do, " responded Tony, chillingly calm. "And I never said it was anything but what you described. It's not sunshine and rainbows, I'll give you that, but trust me, -- as hard as it is for you, -- the other option was way worse. This isn't good, but it is something."

 

" _Anything_  else would be better than this, " Steve hissed, irritation clear in his voice. "I would gladly spend the rest of my life in prison than stay here, bend at your whim to be, --" he couldn't even finish his sentence, realizing what he was saying.

 

Bucky's eyes moved nervously between the two heroes, as did Natasha's, who moved to stand as an obstacle when Tony rose from the chair he was sitting on previously to make his way to Steve, who seemed to who a very interesting nonverbal conversation his shoes.

 

"To be what?" Tony spoke lowly, with an edge of danger. "To be what, Rogers?"He repeated the question, an affronted frown affronted the middle of his eyebrows when Steve stayed silent.

 

"Tony, let's calm down, --"

 

"To be raped?" As soon as the word was spit through his gritted teeth like venom, Natasha closed her eyes with hardness. She tried not to flinch when Tony laughed. It was forced, and pained, and terrible.

 

"Is that what you thought was going to happen? That big, bad Stark planned to bring you back just to rip your clothes off, strap you on a table and have his wicked way with you until you couldn't move or talk?"

 

Steve's face lightened up with color in less than a second, "No, no, Tony please, that's not what I wanted to say! It's not even what I was thinking, just LISTEN to me for a minute!"

 

Tony's face darkened, walking past Natasha who was too exhausted to stop him. Tiredly, her eyes moved to Bucky, whose fists were balled at his sides and lips sucked into his mouth, but didn't move to protect his friend, which made confusion (and a drop of suspicion) appear in her mind.

 

"I wouldn't touch you, " Tony started acidly, anger blazing in his dark brown eyes like a fire. "If you  _begged."_  Silence once again fell over them. Once he calmed down, the heat in Tony's eyes melted. Ice covered his features once again.

 

" They wanted me to kill you, " he announced conversationally, but the three felt the ground running under their feet at the news. ", that was the initial punishment. Have the bodies of the traitors presented in front of the council, by my hand. They knew I could find you easily enough. And they were right. It didn't take me a huge amount of time or effort to find out the snake hole you were hiding in.

 

But I didn't WANT to kill you. And I knew Ross didn't want to kill you, either. He wants to humiliate you. Embarrass you. Deprive you of any possible shred of power or dignity that you might have left. Why would he kill you? If he did, he wouldn't have anyone to brag or be smug around. He wants you alive to witness that he won. And you lost. I knew that. Which is why you're standing here right now.

 

I came up with this, so your stuffed beheaded heads wouldn't stay as trophies hanged high on that creeper's wall. You're fucking welcome.

 

But by all means, go ahead. You want me to call the UN and say I changed my mind? To say their initial punishment was a better deal for both me and you? Do you really want to do that? Because we can go to the board right now if you really think this is a fate worse than death. What's it going to be?"

 

The lack of words spoke volumes.

 

"Figured. " Tony rolled his eyes, placing the suitcase on the glass table. He opened it with swift moves, revealing the objects locked inside of it. Natasha's eyes extended just a bit when she finally learned what hid in the carriage.

 

Her stare at the crimson leather of the collars was concentrated and attentive as if she burned every single detail of the accessory in her mind.  The shiny golden buckle reflected against her irises. It was Tony's hand, without a shade of doubt.

 

The collars appeared to be of high quality, comfortable, and, of course, expensive. The color didn't appear to be random, either. Tony was the only one she could link this to. Only he would give this amount of attention to something.

 

She didn't realize Tony had moved until Natasha heard the collar being clipped around her neck. The woman inhaled slowly, chest raising in slow, steady breaths. She raised her gaze slowly, and hers and Tony's eyes locked. The snow inside of them wasted away bits by bits, along with the stone that cracked around the irises, too.

The material of the collar felt nice and soft on Natasha's skin. The leather wasn't so rough that she couldn't stand it. It bit at her skin just the right amount. It fit perfectly, curling around her neck as though it was always meant to be there. 

  *  

"I'm not going to play Ross's game, " he whispered. "I'll just make him think I will. "





	2. Hit The Ground Like Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! I hope everyone had a nice week :> enjoy today's chapter! 
> 
> P.S: Your feedback and kudos are very important to me. I love to hear what you guys think, so, please, don't hesitate to write a comment and note that your opinion is wanted :)
> 
> Also, I do not own Marvel or any of the characters in this work! I do not gain any financial profit out of this work which is done fully for entertainmenti purposes.
> 
> Until next time!

 

The next events seemed to pass in a blink. Tony clips on their collars, except for Steve's, making a point of throwing the accessory on the table. With saddened eyes, livened with the softest of fascinations, the captain slowly picks it up. He holds it in his palm for a moment to inspect.

 

The tips of his fingers gingerly brush across the soft leather as though it was something precious. A hot flush paints his face crimson, all the way down to his quivering Addam's apple, setting the white porcelain on fire. The furious blush adds a drop of color to his rich, fair skin.

 

Tony's eyes twinkle with a bit of interest. Natasha can understand why. Rarely has she seen Steve flustered herself, but the sight never gets any less interesting to watch. Otherwise, the brunette stays silent until Steve puts on the collar with a slight tremble she is doubtless Tony took note of.

 

Natasha is gently touched by drowsiness. Her eyelids feel heavy, lashes nearly touching the upper part of her cheeks despite her efforts to keep them open. Her brain simply refused to process information that seemed overwhelming then, but, in her daze, she was able to recall the last bit of Tony's words as she walked to her room.

 

' _…Keep the collars on. Or don't. That's a choice of yours I couldn't give less of a fuck about. You don't bother me, I don't bother you.'_

 

Was that a rule imposed by Ross, or by Tony? Her heart hoped for the first option more than anything.

 

She found comfort in discovering that, like the rest of the tower, her floor remained intact. Not having the energy to slip out of her spandex, Natasha only took off her boots and jumped into the bed, a content sigh leaving her lips as she sunk in the familiar softness of her mattress.

 

Natasha took refuge under the warm blankets still imprinted with the refreshing scent of lemons and rain, which caressed her skin just as tenderly as they did when she first arrived back then. She never thought it could be possible to miss something as simple and mundane as a bed.

 

Natasha never stayed in one place for too long, having to move often, never had a place to call home. She was almost always on the run, with a gun in her hand and her eyes over her shoulder, looking for any potential dangers, always ready to fight, never feeling safe.

 

Cheap motel rooms and more often than not sticky beds with saggy mattresses SHIELD provided for missions were what she called her house. Only when Tony had invited them to live with him did she learn what a true bed was. The ones from Wakanda were more than luxurious, nothing less than comfortable, but they weren't home.

 

 _'Was it really the 'where', that didn't do it for you '_ her consciousness wondered, tone sprinkled with an amused mockery. _'Or was it the 'whom'? '_.

 

The thought was promptly ignored, but that went without saying.

 

She closed her eyes, at once, and waited for sleep to steal her away. It took more than she anticipated. Minutes passed and all Natasha could do was twist and turn, trying to shake off the imaginary weight coating her body. Cold waves were crashing against the walls of her stomach, awaking a feeling of discomfort.

 

She felt a gaze upon her. Something told her it wasn't just the AI.

 

Slowly, Natasha sneaked her hand underneath her pillow. She suppressed the relieved sigh behind her lips when she felt the smooth, hard surface of the wooden handler from the spare dagger she kept there, and clutched it in her palm, ready for attack for any unwelcomed guests.

 

A faint squeak echoed in the room. Her door was open.

 

Natasha listened to the sound of his footsteps. The step wasn't loud enough to be Steve, but not light enough to be Tony. Her mind immediately concluded it was Barnes in her room, stopping at the edge of her bed, not an intruder, but her body moves on her own, and in a flash, Barnes is beneath her with a blade at his neck.

 

Only Bucky Barnes would manage to not only look completely calm whilst having a knife on him but also incredibly unimpressed. Grey eyes bore into her own and Natasha mimics them, keeping a calm demeanor.

 

"Are you gonna take this back?" Barnes asks slowly, glancing down at the glistening blade, pulling just a bit back so he doesn't get scratched by the sharpness.

 

"Are you going to tell me why you were sneaking into my room at 3 in the morning? This just made you even creepier than you already were, " Natasha replies coldly, but it does nothing to shake Barnes' blank features. "How come Steve let you out of his sight?"

 

Irritation seems to break through the jaded gaze. Barnes' tongue smacks the roof of his mouth in annoyance and he stares at her with an irked scowl between his brows. "Stevie's my friend. But he ain't my keeper. I am capable of living fine and dandy without Steve breathing down my neck, despite popular belief."

 

"A friend that's so clingy he probably has trouble letting you go piss by yourself. I'm surprised he hasn't cuffed you yet, " Natasha snorts, retracting her knife and tossing it under the bed. She quirked an eyebrow in Barnes' way and crossed her arms, obviously not pleased by what just happened. "So, why grace me with your delightful presence in the middle of the night?"

 

"...I was actually wonderin' if it was okay to sleep here," for the first time since entering, Barnes' face pinches in something close to bashfulness.

 

Natasha must look as incredulous as she feels because a soft blush dusts over Barnes' cheeks and nose. "Not-Not, uh, -not like that! I mean, I just don't want to sleep by myself. New places make me nervous and all."

 

If she wasn't so peeved, Natasha would be endeared by his embarrassment and how frantically he was trying to explain himself. "Why not just sleep with Steve? Or on the couch?"

 

Silence washed over them for a moment. Natasha considers speaking up again, but Barnes takes the lead. "I don't…like living in the past." His answer is vague, but enough for her to understand. "And like I said, not a big fan of new places. Not alone, at least."

 

"...You're on my side. Roll over. If you fart, you're getting my foot up your ass." Natasha faux threatened, going to close the door. Bucky snorted but did as told, turning on the left side of the bed. She had to huff a laugh under her breath when he groaned deeply as his back made contact with the mattress. "Beds do it for you, Barnes?"

 

"They do when I barely missed one in 70 years."

 

Natasha paused, opening her mouth to apologize, before spotting the light tease in Bucky's tone and realizing that probably wasn't the best decision. Everyone with two eyes could see the tight knot in his throat and burning in his look when he's met with pity and people walking on eggshells.

 

Natasha didn't want to be one of those people, she decided.

 

Instead, she hummed and walked back to her bed,  where she positioned back down with a content sigh. Resting back to back with the former soldier, Natasha listened to his collected breathing, feeling a peculiar sensation of calmness settling in her chest.

 

Despite their distance, his next words seemed to be whispered hesitantly in her ear: "Are you afraid of him?" Natasha opens her eyes slowly but doesn't turn around. Not because she's afraid of what she might see in Bucky's eyes if she does, but because of what he might see in hers.

 

'I'm afraid of what he may do to me if he'd actually want to hurt me, ' she thought, but instead, she responded with a simple: "Yes. You?"

 

Bucky's answer comes as a shaky laugh, more like a desperate exhale packed with nervousness and puzzlement than joy. " _Yes_. Isn't it funny? The names that are spoken in the most fearful of whispers by the ones who heard the ghost stories are afraid. What does that say?"

 

It takes Natasha a while to answer. By the time she does, her eyelids mantled her eyes. "Says we're not stupid."

 

Bucky doesn't speak after that. A part of her knows he doesn't need to.

 

It's been a long time since the phantoms of her past didn't come to prey on her, having the intention of sinking their sharp claws into her flesh and drag her in a darkness Natasha knows she won't recover from. They leave her alone that night.

 

Natasha has a peaceful sleep after nearly forgetting how it feels life. Somehow, she feels like it's the same for Bucky.

 

-

Whenever his soul felt heavy, Tony always visited his mother's grave.

 

The polished, granite headstone is painted in a pretty shade of chalky white that compliments the maroon-brown and gold of the inscription plate. The engraved letters all sported the shiny metal on them with elegance. Placing the bouquet of Lillies alongside the rest that surrounded the stone, he began to study it yet again.

 

He intentionally avoided looking at the dates. He didn't come here to fall prey to bad memories.

 

_In the loving memory of Maria Collins Stark. Loving mother, wife, and friend._

 

Tony held back an angry snarl. She was so much more than just these titles, no stone would be high enough to fit them all. It wasn't about the lack of importance that lightened the angry blaze in his chest, but lack of recognition.

 

Maria Stark tried to spread goodness everywhere she went when she was alive. Growing up, when Tony barely reached the kitchen counter and tie his shoelaces by himself, he couldn't and can't recall a time she wouldn't fond a charity or a helping hand she wasn't willing to land.

 

Most kids had superheroes such as Superman, Batman, or even Wonder Woman to look up to. Tony had his mother.

 

All of these parished in Howard's shadow, and to this day, he wonders if the people will ever know of the deeds of Maria Stark.

 

Deep down, he knew it wasn't important. Good people aren't good for fame or worship, but for the sake of being good. Tony finds himself wondering, at times, if that was the reason Maria chose to aid anonymously.

 

"Hey, mom, " his voice is raspy, his heart being squeezed by the sorrows he tries so hard to control.

 

_'Howard! Howard!'_

 

Tony swallows thickly when his mother's desperate, agonized cries ring in his ears. He wrestles air into his lungs after his throat feels closed and they almost reject it, forcing him to exhale and inhale rapidly. He battles with the water stinging his eyes, but the tears fall like droplets on the ground. His stress over the last few days leaves with them.

 

He forces a wet laugh as he wipes his eyes with his sleeves. "Sorry to kill the mood. You always told me it was freeing to cry. Only if you knew how right you were, " the laugh dies as soon as it was born, leaving a sad frown and slouched shoulders behind.

 

"Well, I didn't come here with happy news, -- not that I ever do, but still, --  I just…I could use some advice. Some...Reassurance, as fucking pathetic as that sounds, " he paused. "Sorry. You never liked swearing. _Fricking_ pathetic. You see, I have these friends who hurt me. A lot. And I'm just confused because I'm supposed to hate them.

 

I _want_ to hate them. But I can't...I can't love them either. It's like being torn apart, pulled in two separate directions that are a no-win situation, you know? The worst part is, I always… Always loved them, " the last part is almost lost to the wind, barely above a whisper.

 

"I always knew. There was something for them, -- for _all_ of them, how is that?-- something that made me care about them more than anything else. And I'm afraid that it never really left. I wish it did."

 

An unsteady gulp was drowned in his throat, followed by a humorless chuckle.

 

"You know what nobody tells you? Loving someone is easy. It's hatred that takes work."

 

He allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks this time, giving free rein to the emotions that were getting too heavy to carry. "Mama, " his voice is broken, filled with longing and a childlike pitch he used to carry in his voice when he was young. " _Help me_. Please, please, help me, I don't know what to do and I'm scared, I'm so scared I'll hurt them and I don't want that, --".

 

Tony doesn't know how much time he spent with his mother, crying alone, but he can't bring himself to care. He leaves the cemetery quietly, hands in his pockets and sunglasses shielding his red-rimmed eyes and forced nonchalance to his step.

 

As soon as he waltzes into the tower, Rhodey appears out of thin air and snatches his sunglasses off, revealing a pair of glassy brown eyes for the world to see. "Why were you crying?" He asks instantly. His hands are placed firmly at each side of his hip and his heels planted deep into the ground.

 

Knowing he won't accept but an explanation, Tony sighs, and slumps onto him, hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder and tells Rhodey everything. Rhodey rubs gentle circles on his back and leads him to his lab, commanding Friday to activate Black-Out mode.

 

"I can't fucking believe those assholes, " Rhodey is angry, teeth gritted so hard Tony is concerned they'll go to pieces, fists balled at his sides and his body shakes. For a minute, Tony's heart swells with affection seeing how mad his best friend, - his _brother_ , - is on his behalf. "I should go out there and knock their asses into the next year!"

 

Tony shook his head, inviting Rhodey to sit next to him. Once the man grumblingy took a seat, he replied with: "They're scared, " Tony told him, knowing Rhodey would understand once his mind was cleared of foggy anger. "Who wouldn't be? "

 

"They've known you for years, Tony, " Rhodey countered with a disapproving shake of the head. "they should've known you wouldn't be capable of that. Ross? Fuck yeah. But you? You clothed them, fed them, put a roof above their head and fucking took a missile in a _wormhole,_ without any guarantee you'll be back what's so ever and that's just to name a few!  

 

You _died_ , Tony. We had to watch you die for people who don't even take the time of the day to say ' thank you' for all you do!   Who don't even have enough faith in you to not be a fucking monster! "

 

"I'm not doing this for gratitude, " Tony answered calmly. "I'm doing this because somebody has to. The truth is, they never trusted me, Rhodey, and that's okay. Because, somehow, I knew, that deep down I hadn't trusted them either. Not fully, at least. We were unstable. Opposite chemical substances colliding with one another is the recipe for disaster. An explosion waiting to happen. And it did. We just refused to see it coming. And here we are now."

 

"...There is not one hole you can't crawl out of, Tony Stark, " Rhodey whispered softly. " You're the guy who hit rock bottom and you kicked its ass. Somehow, you're gonna pull out of this one, too. I just know you can, Tony. As soon as Ross is out of the picture, we can work to be a team again, " a bitter sigh slipped from his lips. "until the threat passes, at least. I can live without this drama long and well, thank you."

 

Tony had to chuckle, but a slight sadness still laced his eyes. "I want to forgive them. It's just... It's hard. Do you remember when you, uh, you took my suit? To Hammer?" Rhodey, as always, looked remorseful at the memory.

 

Tony had no doubt he would have apologized yet again for it if it wasn't for the mechanic shaking his head, silently telling him it was okay. After he got the confirmation through a nod, Tony continued:

 

"I understood why you did it. Still do. I was just hurt, because, keeping in mind I was pretty much one with the suit at that time, it felt like you sold me, in a way. I felt like the armor was my only protection. When I was stripped of that, it was like I wasn't me anymore. I didn't know how to function properly. It was so important to me, and it looked like you were taking it away.

 

And I forgave you for that! You were my friend, and you did what you had to. What you thought was right. I forgave you. Why can't I do the same with them?" He asked, eyes cast down, missing the look of sourness on Rhodey's face. The other man exhaled heavily, hand coming to clap Tony on his shoulder.

 

"You don't owe anyone anything, " He started. " Forgiveness is something that comes with time and effort. You don't force it, you earn it. They'll be forgiven when they show growth and hopefully learn from their mistakes. That doesn't happen overnight, you know? It'd be nice if it did, but...In reality, it doesn't happen all that often. Some people don't want to forgive, and some people are left behind. Most likely because it's better that way. "

 

"Is that what you think?" Tony asked. "That I should leave them behind?"

 

"...I know that you're a good person, " Rhodey replied. "Not a perfect one. But a good person. And that you suffered enough. People are complex. Friends are, too. We disappoint each other. It's unavoidable. It's what we do. But our mistakes don't have to define us. We're human. We live, we learn, we grow. And, well, you already said you want to forgive them... That's a start."

 

"Come here you, " Tony sniffed, pulling Rhodey in a tight embrace. Rhodey let him bury his head in his shirt and cry. The moisture on his shoulder indicates that Rhodey wasn't doing a magnificent job at keeping himself together either

 

. That made him feel at least a bit better. "I love you. You know that, right?"

 

"I know, " Rhodey croaked. "I love you too. I know you know that."

 

Tony knew. It can be troublesome to comprehend, at times, the concept of someone caring about you and loving you unconditionally. Not to mention hard to believe, after years of being told you're not worthy or deserving of it.

 

But Tony knew, even with his unforgiving insecurities, his cruel voices flying in his head, telling him their exact opposite through hisses and whiskey covered teeth, that his back was watched. And he was most likely, never alone.

 

Rhodey stays for a few more hours, and they battle with the mess inside his lab. He scolds Tony for his disorganized habits, but there is no real reproach behind his words. A warm fondness is present whenever he shakes his head or rolls he feels put at ease. Eventually, he has to go, and disappointment creeps, but Tony tries to not let it show.

 

He's not entitled to Rhodey's life. He doesn't want to be a selfish leech, clinging to Rhodey and harbor all of his time. But the thought of going back to a cold, quiet tower isn't a preferable option either. Tony used to love solidarity when the team co-lived with him. The 3 minutes of silence he counted as a blessing came with the form of a curse now.

 

Friday informs him Ross has requested a meeting and is just as adamant about him not avoiding it as he did in the past as he is insistent about the three people in Tony's care to show up. Tony is just thankful he will be present under the form of a hologram so his desire to punch his teeth in is dimmed if just a little.

 

Tony suspects there is no real reason as to why he summoned this meeting. Ross, as he said before, wants to see them degraded, heads bowed in failure and humiliation at the hands of someone they used to call 'friend'. This is but another excuse to see that hiding behind a curtain.

 

When Tony had first met him, and from the stories he heard from Bruce before he disappeared, Ross took a perverted glee in seeing his adversaries fall at his feet. In person, he could see it. It wasn't just smugness. It was pure sadism, shining from the dead eyes of a devil in human skin. And it made his skin crawl.

 

He knew he had to move fast. It was just a matter of time before Ross would either get bored of the situation, or take notice that something was being planned right under his nose. He tells Friday to sent him the pictures he had her take earlier today with the collars and the others, the 'proof the program is starting',  Ross has requested. (He felt shame when thinking the collars looked nice on them)

 

He would play this little charade for now. He might hate every second of it, but Tony was nothing if not adaptable.

 

Surprisingly, when he runs out of projects or just can't find the energy or interest to create something, Tony spends a considerable amount of time in the gym. The heat, the musk of sweat and effort, the sound of heavy breathing, it cleanses his mind. Gives him time to reflect.

 

The punching bag was his favorite. Tony had designed it to be durable, resistant to ridiculous amounts of time and strength. He projected him for Steve and never had the chance or desire to replace it or take it down. He makes use of it. Probably more than healthily, considering his bruised knuckles. But his mind was free. That's what it mattered.

 

Over his slow panting and the music of his headphones, Tony can hear someone shuffling in the room. Reserved, a bit shy,  Rogers stands by the entrance door with a gym bag over his shoulder and fingers twirling around each other, almost as red as the collar he's wearing. He looks like a boy on his first day of school, Tony thinks.

 

He doesn't acknowledge him. Just returns to his set and hopes Steve would leave him alone.

 

"Hey, Tony? Can we talk?"

 

There was a time where Steve's timid requests were precious to him. Filled his body with affection. Now, he has to breath in and out to calm himself in order not to snap. He fixes the blonde man with a look like 'can't you see I'm busy!'

 

It didn't surprise him Steve chose to ignore it. "I just wanted to ask about the photos you took earlier? I-I mean, have you delivered them...? Or, kept them? "

 

Tony raises an eyebrow at the question. "I'm not jacking off to them, if that's what you're worried about. Jailed prisoners getting their chains snapped on doesn't make nice Spank Bank material. Not even for me, if you can believe."

 

Tony was getting concerned about how red Steve was getting. "Y-You're not a -- I never thought that, I mean, Tony you're not the type to, --" Steve probably realized this was useless, because he inhaled deeply and tried again. This time, his voice was quiet, barely making it past audible. "Is that what we are? Prisoners?"

 

Tony paused at the hurt in Steve's tone. He feels remorseful for a few moments at the poor choice of words. He bites his lips and thinks. "By definition? Yeah. I don't like it anymore than you do because being someone's jailor never appealed to me in any way. But momentarily, these are our roles. Until I find a way out of this mess."

 

"We're more than just jailors and prisoners. We're friends!"

 

"No, no we're not, " Tony replies simply, refusing to feel bad about Steve's face freezing. "friends don't do to each other what we did. Friends don't lie, friends don't hurt you...And when they do, they at least have the decency to own up to it rather than find justification for their actions."

 

Tony sounds reserved and uncaring, but only if Steve would know the pain it takes to push out every word and the burn in his chest knowing they're true. He picks up his towel and walks past him. Steve's clenched fists don't go unnoticed.

 

"The truth will set you free, " he turns around to tell him. "but first, it'll piss you off."

 

"What would it take for you to forgive me? So we could be friends again. I apologized Tony, I wrote you a latter, I've been trying, I spent a _year_ feeling like absolute shit for what happened! What do I have to do?! "

 

"Change, " Tony told him simply. Steve pauses and looks at him strangely, as though he wasn't sure about what just came out of his mouth. Tony sighs heavily, but continues: "apologizes without changed behavior are just lies. You say you're trying? You say you feel like shit? I don't believe it 'till I see it. So why don't you be a good boy, sit tight and look pretty, and let me handle this?"

 

Steve sits there, mouth agape, eyes disbelieving. Tony doesn't wait for a reply.

 

The rest of the day passes slowly. Tony waits for them in the meeting room with his heel tapping rapidly on the ground. Eventually, one by one, they entered the room, looking rather unsure of why they were there.

 

"Good, you guys are here, " Tony said dryly, checking the time. "Okay, so, General McDickface should be here any moment now. You guys don't talk. Don't interact. Don't react to what he's saying. "

 

"So we're basically here to be spectators?" Natasha asked, leaning against the table. He's surprised she decided to keep the collar on. That all of them did, for that matter. It was probably just because of Ross' visit, he told himself. "Why be summoned in the first place if we're not allowed to contribute?"

 

"Because he wants to see his winnings, " Tony's mutter comes off as bitter instead of cold. And he curses himself for that. "Do you really think the wolf would miss a chance to enter the hen house?"

 

The device Tony has set on the floor activates and the wolf himself appears. He fixates the lambs with a leer. His eyes twinkle with a disturbing happiness when they settle on the collars around their necks. Tony can see Natasha bite the inside of her cheeks and her nails dig into her palms.

 

" I see your entertainment has arrived, " Ross commented suggestively. In the back of his mind, a voice tells him that 'entertainment' really means 'whores'. He can't help but agree. "How are they? Not giving you too much trouble, I hope. If they do, I'll be more than glad to get them off your hands. Anything for a friend."

 

A forced smile splits on Tony's lips. "Trust me, I'm more than used to them giving me trouble. I mean, hell, this situation is proof of that. But no fun without a fight. That's what I say, anyway. Besides, " his sharp smiles opens, showcasing a set of teeth that feel more like fangs in his mouth. "I don't like sharing. My toys are mine."

 

Ross can pretend he's a predator. Tony can bear his teeth too.

 

The general takes a moment before returning the wolf smile with his own. Tony thinks they're circling one another even if there is no movement happening.

 

"...I'm surprised you bother with them after everything. I wouldn't, " Ross hummed, walking around each of them. "They're more trouble than they're worth. I mean, one almost killed you. One continues to lie to you. And one orphaned you. I have to confess, Mr. Stark, you're showing an awful lot of mercy for people you supposedly hate."

 

When Steve can't stay silent anymore, his voice is cold as iron, thunderous, all snarls and anger. "Tony doesn't hate us!"

 

Tony bites his tongue until the metallic, salty taste of blood fills his mouth. Ross wants to push, and push, and push, and Tony can't crumble. Ross is visibly taken back by the sudden outburst. The surprise is replaced by a twisted amusement in no time when he realizes Steve can't do any real damage.

 

"You'd know about sparing people who hate you, " Tony shrugged, trying to turn Ross' attention to him. "Betty? How's she doing? Not that you'd know, since she cut you off, but I thought I'd ask."

 

"She's fine, " Ross' response comes off in a form of acidic venom. He whips his head in Steve's direction. A nasty grin appears on his mouth as he steps closer. The captain wears an imaskive masks the whole time, staring ahead with a cold calmness even when Ross' finger hooks under the leather.  

 

" You created some waves with your little spectacle, you know that?" Ross asked. Steve knew better than to respond. "I have to say, if I wasn't so disappointed that Captain America, the symbol of hope and courage for our country, the hero so many people look up to left us in the dust for no real reason, I'd be impressed. Your supporters made a bit of fuss when they heard about Stark's proposal.

 

To a degree, I can understand. I wouldn't want my childhood hero to be caged and collared like an animal. Well, in your case, I guess you're more of a personal wh--, " he doesn't get to finish because Tony is marching over there, curling his fingers around Ross' wrists in an almost crushing grip and yanks him away.

 

 _Protect, protect, protect_.

" General, " Tony's voice could cut glass. " I don't appreciate people touching my stuff."

 

Ross looks almost scandalized, but catches himself on time and maintains a straight face. He rips his hand away from Tony's hold and clears his throat. "Of course. My apologies, " his eyes scan the room, and they land on Barnes, whose look is buried in the ground. "May I?" He asked in a careful tone.

 

Tony's teeth grind together. He nods, but keeps close to him, ignoring Steve's alarmed look. Ross walks in his direction and applies the same treatment Steve got. Only this time, he's precocious enough to retreat his hands as quickly as he touches. "Captain, you abandoned an entire nation for one guy. I hope he was worth it."

 

He appears to look for something. By the pleased hum he gave out, Tony assumes he found it. "Good. You didn't forget the electroshock utility I asked you to add. Would it be too much to ask for a test? I just want to make sure everything is in order."

 

Shit. Think Stark, think. Think think think.

 

"Not if you want to trigger the winter soldier."

 

The room freezes.

 

Tony doesn't know which face he should inspect first. Bucky's relaxed one or Steve's and Ross' shock. Sluggishly, Ross walks over to him. "What? Explain yourself, Stark." He orders in a growl.

 

"I have reasons to think one of the conditioning methods HYDRA used on him might have been electricity. A trigger, if you will. If you want me to zap him, I can, but we'll have a pissed off Winter Soldier in the middle of the room and I won't recommend it. Imagine the _Red Wedding_ , only worse."

 

 "Not that! The Winter soldier's still in his head?! I thought you said the Wakandan girl got rid of it!"

 

"No, I said there's a probability _Shuri_ found a way to neutralize him temporarily. Neutralize isn't the same as eradicated, as I'm sure you're aware. To begin to hope for a possibility to even wipe a particle of that kind of brainwashing would take years. And even then, we have no guarantee he's gone for good. This isn't necessarily a bad thing if we use it in our advantage."

 

"What are you saying?"

 

"I'm saying, " Tony started slowly. "That if the winter soldier is nesting in Barnes' brain, we could use it for the threat that's coming. He's a valuable factor and we shouldn't exclude him as we could definitely use his force on the battlefield. He's a one-man army. We'd be stupid not to take note of that."

 

Tony's tongue felt like sandpaper and every word send a sour, bitter taste in his mouth. He shot Barnes a quick apologetic look before entering the gameboard again.

 

"He's a killing machine!"

 

No. No, he's not. "A _functional_ killing machine. " Tony shrugged, arms crossed over his chest, absentmindedly stepping closer to Barnes' side. "A good one, at that. His efficiency in battle is unmatched. Incredible, even. He was able to go toe to toe with Iron Man and get out alive. One of the most performant and lethal weapons constructed in our time. Let that sink in for a minute."

 

"Barnes is too unstable for the front, " Ross said grudgingly, glaring at the soldier. "too dangerous."

 

"Barnes can help us. " Tony glared, a determined glare manifesting on his face.

 

Ross shook his head. " Barnes is too much of a threat, Stark, and you know that! You sent a guy who's been through the same hell Barnes has been in war, let him walk on a battlefield, you're singing everyone's --both allies and enemies--  death sentences. What if he loses control in the middle of the battle? What if something triggers him? Then what? He's unstable."

 

"He's as stable as mentally tortured super soldiers come, and if he's not, he can act like he is. Look, the thing we're about to face--it's not something the military forces can beat on their own. We're not dealing with some crazy doctor who wants to rule the world or a glory thirsty demi-God, or some gigantic, half-assed aliens falling out of the sky. That's a Friday for me. I can handle it. No biggie.

 

But this isn't that. It's more. It's the dark horse we have to prepare for. Not our normal crook.

 

If it was, I wouldn't have brought Rogers and his hounds back. You know that.  And especially not Barnes. We need everyone for this battle, Ross, every person that can put up a fight against the End Game should be there. Because otherwise, we're all fucked. Toast."

 

"... Are you absolutely sure you need Barnes for this battle? "

 

"If I wouldn't be, would I be fighting you so hard about it? No. Barnes is our one chance to beat this war and I'm not about to ignore that fact because of 'what ifs'. The world I love and the ones in it are in danger. I'm willing to do anything to protect them. If the Soldier really is in there, he needs to know who's side he's on. Has to know his handlers. "

 

Ross doesn't look entirely convinced with what he's hearing, but Tony can see signs of inner conflict in his eyes. Eventually, he asks: " And if he doesn't have the reaction desired?"

 

"I'll be watching him, " Tony feels the crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders as he says the next words. His stomach is twisting and turning, and bile in his throat. "I'll be watching him,",  he repeats in a more steady tone. " And I promise, general. He steps out of line once? Shows the smallest sign of snapping? I'll put him down myself."

 

That seemed to be the deal breaker. Ross' gaze shifts with something like respect. It makes Tony's hair rise and increases his sickness. "No chances. No more pardoning. One step wrong, and he hits the ground like rain. Understood?"

 

"Crystal."

 

The hologram disappears. Tony and the others stay.

 

Tony looks at Steve. His blood starts to boil and an abrupt anger spikes through him like a dagger. Natasha must have seen it because she steps in front of him in no time. Either to protect Steve from the rain of sharp words, or calm him down before he says something he might regret.

 

But she's not fast enough. By the time she opens her mouth, Tony is already yelling.    "What part of 'not talking' is so hard to understand?!" Steve flinches at the hard tone like he's been struck. "God damn it, Steve, why can't you ever, ever listen to me?! I asked you for something little, and you can't even follow that! Why is it always you?!"

 

"Did you hear what he was saying?!" Steve shouted back, calmness long forgotten. "He provoked me, he--,",

 

" God, you're such a fucking child!" Tony growled, pushing away the urge to grip and tear his hair out. " _'He, He, He'_ , it's always the same thing, isn't!? Always he, always _somebody_ , always _other people_ , never you!" Tony threw his hands up. "You know what? If you're going to behave like a child, I'll treat you like one. Go into your room. I don't want to see your face right now."

 

Steve's face explodes in a furious red and his eyes water significantly. For a second, Tony pauses, wondering if he had gone too far. Steve looked as though he was struggling to keep himself together and not burst into tears right where he was standing. His voice is choked up, breaking at every turn.

 

"What?! Tony no, you can't do that! It's not _fair,--_ ,  I didn't _do_ anything! He was in my face and he was lying, and saying all those awful things! He put his fucking hands on me and it took everything to not walk out! I was trying to-- I was trying _so hard_ , to be good, to not disappoint and you don't even fucking care,--, " fat tears stream down Steve's face. He's fully sobbing, face in his hands and throat full of hiccups. Tony had never seen his composed friend, soldier, or team member in such a state.

 

For as long as he knew Steve, he never thought of him as an emotional person. The war face almost never left his features and it was rare to hear him laugh or catch a smile from him. Put in this position, all Tony can do is stand there uselessly. By the time he broke out of his statue pose, Barnes had an arm around Steve's middle and walked him out of the room.

 

Even then, he could hear stomping and loud curses followed by the booming sound of a door slamming. Natasha stays a little longer. Her eyes shine with a close to understanding. Her small hand cames to gently pet his shoulder before pulling away and following the two.

 

After this incident, Tony tries to bury himself in work. Even working dutifully, all he could think about was Steve's flushed face, shiny with tears and twisted in stress and he feels even worse. He remains unbothered until night fell.

 

He hears whimpers and muffled weeping coming from the other side of Steve's door when he walks past it. It merges with the soothing soft whisper of Russian words. It all seems untouchable to him, so he lowers his hand when he was about to knock. They were better off without him, he concluded.

 

Tony locks himself in the lab and shoots Friday out, listening to music, letting the words touch and pull him away from reality.

 

"Good night, boss." Friday's voice somehow manages to sound skittish. It makes Tony's lips twitch in a small smile.

 

"Night, baby girl."

 

"...Boss? Is eveyrthing going to be okay?" She sounds young. Innocent. Tony wants to cry.

 

"I don't know. But I'll try to make it be."


End file.
